


indulge your heart (and mine)

by grandstander



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: You'd think Ichigo would be all hard-edges and tough, but really, the boy's got as much of a lover's heart as he does a fighter's spirit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a self-indulgent fic where ichigo and grimmjow watch a romantic movie together, mostly based off the headcanon that ichigo likes them. specific notes about the movie and my adventure with it, since i knew nothing about romance movies and picked one at random, is at the bottom! enjoy!!

Humans, Grimmjow had long since decided, where incredibly absurd and difficult. He’d long ago discarded any intention to attempt to understand them (in fact, it felt like the more he learned, the more ridiculous they became, but that could possibly be explained by his own muddling feelings). Movies, or films as Ichigo sometimes called them, did not have much a point to him, but Ichigo took to watching them from time to time. He seems sheepish as he returns from one of the bedrooms downstairs-- Grimmjow guesses it was one of his sister’s, or perhaps his father’s, with a thin case in that he can’t see (or read, for that matter) the title of.

The arrancar doesn’t understand why he seems to be somewhat embarrassed, it’s makes him more curious than his normal behavior would have. “Hey, what’s with you, huh?” he asks, brows pinched together and tone almost bordering on accusatory (an old habit that was hard to shake).

“Oh, uh…” Ichigo was slow to answer him, voice fading as he puts the movie into the thin black box. “I don’t normally watch these types of movies,” he finally answers, though it doesn’t give Grimmjow enough to stave his inquiry.

Ichigo’s lips purse as he notices the unsatisfied, quizzical expression Grimmjow has on his face. Ichigo knows full well that the movie wouldn’t entertain the other in the slightest, but he had been aching to watch it again after seeing it several years ago. Ichigo had first watched it with his sister, Yuzu, the only other Kurosaki who seemed to share his (poorly kept secret) love of romance films. Yuzu was also the only one who he could count on not commenting on the betraying sniffles that would sneak past his composure, too.

The Substitute settles into the corner of the couch, pulling his legs up as he rested on his hip. He still doesn’t meet Grimmjow’s gaze, who’s almost pointedly staring at him by now as the movie begins to play. “I… uh, I don’t think you’ll like it,” he says, admittance and perhaps the faintest edge of guilt touching his voice “but I’ve been planning on watching this for a couple weeks now, since I don’t have anything to study for this weekend.”

Finally, the arrancar hums in response, understanding the detail behind his words-- he’d come to learn that outside of duties tied to blade and black robes, Ichigo had to study things, and quite a lot. “I didn’t know you’d be here today,” the other finally adds, but there’s nothing inherently… unhappy in his tone. In fact, a faint smile had graced his lips, but it’s a small moment and he turns his attention back to the screen. “Have you seen it before?” the arrancar asks him aimlessly, and he’s answered with a “No,” from the soul reaper.

Grimmjow finds, after about fifteen minutes, he is indeed not keen on the movie whatsoever, already bored. Seriously, how could Ichigo watch this? Disregarding their current opposite positions on the corners of the couch, he taking to laying down against the boy, hopefully to gain some of his attention to preoccupy himself. The contact itself was becoming less and less foreign to him; the casual nature of it something that claws at the back of his learned instincts as he settles against Ichigo’s thighs. The Substitute made no dismissal actions, rather he moves his arm so that Grimmjow can settle higher up on his legs, and lets it curl lazily around the top of the arrancar’s chest. Ichigo’s fingers idly brush the skin of Grimmjow’s bicep, the feeling of it relaxing in its rhythmic motions.

Though, the arrancar still finds little amusement in the film itself. It bores him, and doesn’t quite translate to the world he knows; the fickle birth of young love isn’t something he’s known (at least, not in the typical sense). Instead, Grimmjow takes to occasionally observing Ichigo, which turns out to be more entertaining if he’s truthful (for more than one reason that he’d never outright admit to). He watches a… a rather sweet, endearing smile comes to Ichigo’s lips, the image itself pulling at his heartstrings more so than anything in the film. His gaze flickers to the film, watching as a woman brushed a man’s hair, then pushes something she’d called a doughnut biscuit in between a man’s lips. He looks utterly dumbfounded, and it mirrors Grimmjow’s own confusion. He looks back to Ichigo, whose cheek looks puffy and round from it resting against his fist, and his smile seems to grow, fondness glowing in his eyes.

 _Liar, he’s definitely seen this before_ , Grimmjow thinks, but the thought only leaves him all the more invested in observing his reactions. The arrancar goes back to lazily, half-heartedly watching the movie; the man from before, seems to drift from the girl he was with in the forest. It’s peculiar to watch, the discussion of love so open, but it feels casual in the same regard; like an exhale, fleeting and in the moment. His attention turns back to Ichigo, and he can see where a solemn, nearly unreadable expression has taken perch on his thin, sharp features, but there is a hint of sadness gleaming in his eyes.

 _He’s so easy to read_ , the arrancar thinks further, almost amused. His attention shifts between the two subjects, Ichigo and the film, rather easily.

( Grimmjow doesn’t _understand_ it; he doesn’t get it. It shakes him with the reality of the fact that Ichigo is human, and he’s not-- these matters; love, friendship, heartbreak; they are foreign to him all regards. He wonders, vaguely, if Ichigo has felt these things, if he’s lived a life like this, but then he consider that it comes to him that as human as the boy’s heart may be, his soul is not. It’s a certain sadness that falls into his lap, though not quite his own. Sympathy, perhaps? It could never be pity; the both of them were too proud for something like that. He looks back up at Ichigo, his own expression solemn, and Ichigo’s brows have knit together ever so slightly as the man follows the girl who had left him in his group of companions, crestfallen as they speak near a river. Grimmjow then wonders if he could give these things to him, this humanity, and finds it a pathetic thought. He couldn’t, he knows that, and he already knows Ichigo is aware of that. The arrancar quickly tries to force his thoughts away before he can linger of the subject of _why_ , then, why are they sitting like this—  _pretending_ , pretending that they’re human and heartfelt. )

As the man and the woman speak, she speaks of defense, something that rings of honor and virtue, the man nodding with shame evident on his face. Still, Grimmjow finds it absurd. _What does it matter_ , he thinks, but still he looks to Ichigo, whose own expression is one of determination, and he nods in time with the guilty man on screen. The arrancar watches, still, fascinated by the boy’s passion and investment in the unknown people within the movie. For the quickest second, his lip quivers, bottom lip poking out and he inhales. His fingers curl against Grimmjow’s skin a little more firmly than before, as if instinctively reaching for him. It burns something in the arrancar, a cold sort of heat rising in his stomach and he feels what surely must be a heart light within his chest. Silently, one of his hands brushes the thin, bony fingers, resting on top of them lazily. Grimmjow hears the girl speak of crying, and he sees Ichigo sigh again, head cocking to the side as a softer, affectionate smile spread across his lips and his eyes shine warmly. (Quietly, mentally, Grimmjow makes a mental note of the extension of a _gift_ ; a way in which humans attempt to mend, to show love. It’s ridiculous, really, but he considers the boy whose thighs his head lays against, and he remembers anyway.)

The cold in Grimmjow’s stomach burns warm, then, his chest flaring as he forces his breathing to stay even (maybe, just maybe, he can relate to a little bit of this movie— though he’ll never accept that, never acknowledge that). _The smile looks better on him._

That look of genuine fondness and enjoyment doesn’t fade from Ichigo for several moments as he watches the man and woman on screen, and god does it do something to what remains of Grimmjow’s heart. Grimmjow feels as if he’s basking in a gentle, glowing sun; it’s so foreign to the distant glow of a moon he’s used to. It’s almost as if he’s spying on hidden moment he shouldn’t see, something that should be kept away from prying eyes, like a secret. The arrancar indulges for a passing second longer, the will in him to disobey the innate burning in him always, and finally he forces his attention back to the movie that Ichigo’s so enraptured in (and perhaps, there is the slightest chance he’s grown invested due to Ichigo’s own infectious passions).

As much as he wills himself, the film still holds little for him. He watches as people talk, scenes move and faces change, and little sticks with Grimmjow. Ichigo, still, seems to hang on every word. Until, there are some that catch Grimmjow, too.

_“You hold happiness for another person in your hands.”_

He’s not sure about any of that talk about _marriage_ , whatever that is; the word has little meaning to him, and he has little care to find out, too. But that— those words, they clung to him in the uncomfortable way that humidity soaked the skin, suffocating it. Like a fog that hugged the earth and refused to dissipate. Grimmjow fought the initial urge to look at his own hands, calloused and worn; they had seen too many battles, ripped through skin and bone, what good could possibly be in those hands? What could be in his hands worth loving— how could these hands of his give love? He’s not sure, the thought makes him uneasy, the feeling shifting in his stomach like a tremulous tide. The words echo, refuse to leave him; he can’t find himself focusing on much else besides them for a while. Grimmjow drowns the film out, his thought wandering and wading through the war he’s only ever known. His eyes fall to the hand resting on top of Ichigo’s idling fingers, and finally, the quaking thoughts settle.

In the fading merge of his thoughts and reality, he had stopped paying against to the film entirely, his thumb beginning to idly brush against Ichigo’s fingers as he forced himself back to the present. Grimmjow glances back at Ichigo, and he just barely catches the unusual glint of wetness at the corner of his eyes. Grimmjow, perplexed, turns back to the film to try and figure out what could provoke such a reaction. He only sees the man running towards the girl, and second, prettier one; though, still he doesn’t understand. Wasn’t she upset by the pretty girl’s presence just moments before? The arrancar huffs, rolling his eyes at the absurdity that he finds humans to be. The main woman talks about love once again, and he still finds little understanding.

The scenes change several times, seeming to jump from place to place in time. The people speak of jobs and graduating, things Grimmjow has since learned since he’s drifted in and out of this world. Ichigo talks about them, sometimes, though he talks about university and literature the most. It’s amusing to watch him speak about them, passion lighting up in his eyes when he says old names and foreign names alike, tales spinning from his tongue like fine silk. Grimmjow doesn’t quite see the point of it, old stories that is, but he supposes since Ichigo finds so much enjoyment in it he can endure it, if for his sake.

When scenes change and the story moves, he finds himself still ever drifting back to watch Ichigo; truthfully, it was more the joy than the film was. A faint spread of warm color has spread across his cheeks as he watches, a case of second hand embarrassment and for the first time since he’d started the movie, he finally turns away from it. Instantly, he looks down at Grimmjow, as if it’s second nature. He locked gaze with bright, shining blue eyes, and the dusting of pink on the high curves of his cheeks don’t fade.

“What?” he says, genuinely curious and perplexed to find the arrancar staring at him.

“Nothin’,” is the answer he’s greeted with, Grimmjow turns away to return vague attention back to the movie (though, the image of Ichigo with reddened cheeks and wide, brown eyes doesn’t leave his mind entirely).

Though, for the first time, Grimmjow audibly chuckles when he watches the man and the woman walking together, playfully bickering it seems. It reminds him, vaguely, of someone. Ichigo seems to have heard it, too, and he hears a weak sigh from him and can practically hear the smile in his own weak laugh. As they continue, he finds himself vaguely reminded of the same individuals once again when the two discuss a competition— _‘I can’t have you beating me forever,’_ he says to her, and the arrancar feels the faintest hint of a grin spreading across his lips. Perhaps there was some entertainment to be found, if only a little.

The arrancar continues to watch, precariously, as the man dresses in a suit— something he’d seen Ichigo’s father in from time to time, and reasons that it’s part of the wedding ceremonies. It has his interest peaked the slightest bit, though it’s more out of curiosity than of any genuine want. As women begin to file onto the screen, white cascading down their frames and glittering stones touching the peaks of them, a frown perches on his lips. “What are they wearing?” he says, annoyance obvious in his tone. “Wedding dresses,” Ichigo answers simply, calm with eyes still glued to the screen. Grimmjow wants to say more, but he can’t articulate the manner by which the clothing reminds him too much of washed out sand and towering pale walls (a cage he did not ask for), so he stays silent. Though, his brow sinks heavily and eyes widen as he sees that one of the girl’s teeth falls out. He sits up and turns back to look at Ichigo, abruptly.

“You humans are _supposed_ to lose your teeth?” he asks, baffled.

Ichigo returns the look, alarmed when the arrancar suddenly rose from his spot, though his expression is more quizzical than it is surprise. “Uh… Yeah…” Ichigo answers, unsure of how to explain it without it sounding like absolute bullshit. “We call them baby teeth, you’re supposed to lose them when you’re young. Then you grow new ones.”

“You guys grow extra teeth?” Grimmjow continues to ask, the bewilderment in his voice not having eased in the slightest.

“No— no, it’s just… uh, they only grow back once.” Ichigo answers. The arrancar stares at him a moment longer, finally clicking his tongue as he lays back down. “And here I thought you humans had something interesting to you,” he grumbles, but Ichigo doesn’t dignify him with a response.

When he’s settled back down, the characters are discussing love once more, and Grimmjow is wondering if he’s becoming annoyed with the word, or the openness with which they say it. She asks him for a kiss as a gift, immediately prompting the arrancar to glance up at the soul reaper. Ichigo is still ever engrossed, his expression wide and for once ungraced with a wrinkled brow or pursed frown. He watches the other again, watches the light flicker over his face and the way his eyes blink, the flutter of his lashed. There’s a vague blush on his cheeks again, one Grimmjow can barely make out in the fading daylight from a window.

When Grimmjow had moved away before, Ichigo had taken the pillow lying nearly forgotten in his lap into his arms, half of his face sinking so that it was behind it. The arrancar briefly frowns at the act, the displeasure of not being able to observe surprisingly not settling well with him. In and of itself, he does not find that notion enjoyable. The intensity in Ichigo’s eyes, however, is enough to pull his attention. Emotion shines so obviously under the gleam of them that Grimmjow feels as if it may be tangible in the air around them. He wonders what could be incurring such intensity from the soul reaper, and his gaze flickers to the screen, the man and the woman tentatively and slowly falling into a kiss.

As he looks back, he can see small tears swelling at the corner of Ichigo’s eyes, and the tell-tale sound of a sniffle leaves him as he hugs the pillow closer to him. The arrancar is almost taken aback by the sight, hardly finds himself able to believe it? Is _Kurosaki Ichigo_ really getting choked up over a kiss? Grimmjow gives the other a questioning look, one brow raising as a mocking grin spreads over his lips.

“Are you _really_ fuckin’ cryin’?” Grimmjow asks, his voice suddenly disrupting whatever atmosphere had fell over Ichigo.  
“Shut up!” Ichigo immediately retaliates, one of his hands grabbing the remote to pause the film. He had turned to face the arrancar as he snapped at him, his bottom lip pulled up into a frown that threatened to break into whatever small cry he was stifling. “I’m not crying!” he shouts rather defensively, especially given that the corners of his eyes were obviously wet.

“They’re just fuckin’ kissin’,” the arrancar says, a hand gesturing lazily to the screen as he spoke with the same mocking tone, and his grin had not diminished in any way.

Whatever teasing comments were to come next where lost, however, as Ichigo shoved the pillow he had clutched so tightly before over the arrancar’s face. A muffled shout of annoyance comes from beneath it, hands immediately coming up to grasp Ichigo’s wrists. They struggled against one another, the arrancar turning his head underneath the pillow to breathe as he began sitting up, all the while Ichigo attempted to push him down. “You little fucking shit,” Grimmjow growled, turning over underneath it.

The pillow was discarded, sliding off Grimmjow’s back as he moved upwards to pull the Substitute underneath him. Immediately, Ichigo slides one of his knees up, pressing it firmly against Grimmjow’s chest to act as a barrier. His hands continued to push against Grimmjow’s shoulders while said arrancar tried to pry the same hands away. Amidst the shuffling and wrestling, whatever melancholy that had touched the boy’s eyes had faded away, instead only a scowl on his face and slightly bared teeth (which was, as far as Grimmjow was concerned, a much better expression).

Large calloused palms curled around Ichigo’s thin wrists, squeezing them as they were pushed away. The arrancar let his full weight drop against the knee digging into his chest, a grin that pulled more at one corner of his lips spreading as Ichigo reflexively craned his head back while the arrancar came closer. Grimmjow took the second to simply watch; an observation in detail of the interesting mixture that was Ichigo’s demeanor. There is a soft dusting of freckles that cover his skin, fading now that the fall months have come into swing. The color that warms his skin is pleasing, complementing the amber and gold that makes up his persona; he looks autumnal in every sense of the word. Of course, though, Ichigo’s expression is none too pleased.

He’s staring back at the arrancar with a prominent scowl and a stern frown, though he stops struggling against Grimmjow’s hold. It wasn’t necessarily a constricting one, but more of a matter of pressure; he let his weight fall onto Ichigo and Grimmjow looked to be his exact opposite in the moment. A knowing, self-assured grin had spread across his lips, the type of expression he had when he was much too pleased with himself.

“ _Ichigo,_ ” Grimmjow says, voice rumbling deep in his throat in a way that made Ichigo inhale, caught off guard by the act. The arrancar looks altogether satisfied with himself, eyes half-lidded and fully aware of what he was doing.

In truth, it pained him how deeply romantic he was, how much stories of love and pining worked their ways into his veins. A bright blush covers his cheeks, startled by the way he was spoken to so intimately. It makes his heart pound and he pulls his wrists back towards his own body, using the space between him and Grimmjow given by holding his knee up to slid out from under the arrancar. Ichigo slips down from the couch onto his side, lips drawn tightly closed as his cheeks warm with color.

He’s _flustered_ , heart beating heavily and distressed by the intimacy of Grimmjow’s voice. It’s rare he speaks to him in such a way, and even worse is he knows full well that the arrancar is doing it purely to tease him— which just makes his predicament that much more frustrating.

A grunt is all Ichigo hears behind him as he begins to move onto his knees. Because Grimmjow had been letting all his weight fall onto the soul reaper before, he lands awkwardly on his stomach. Ichigo was beginning to stand, presumably to make some kind of escape, but Grimmjow notices that the curves of his ears and the back of his neck are touched by a pink hue. The sight only boosts the arrancar’s ego more.

As Ichigo raises to his feet, back still turned to Grimmjow, the arrancar pushes himself up, one of his legs stepping off of the couch to support himself as his arm reached out and curled around the soul reaper’s waist. He pulls Ichigo back onto the couch and a strangled noise leaves him, though his surprise does not give him the chance to fight back. The landing back onto the couch itself is not comfortable, Grimmjow’s arm awkwardly behind the soul reaper and his fingers curled around his hip while still partially standing.

“What, you tryin’ to run away?” Grimmjow asks, teasing him further. The only response he’s given is a displeased huff, Ichigo pointedly avoiding the arrancar’s gaze with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Grimmjow sits back onto the couch, his hand still resting on the soul reaper’s hip and he turns to face him further, going as far as to lean in. Ichigo only leans away, turning his head as much as he can. As amusing as the behavior is to Grimmjow, it doesn’t necessarily _satisfy_ him by any means. Ichigo is stubborn, though, and is adamant on not meeting the arrancar’s gaze.

His composure is firm and tight, shoulders drawn inwards with his arms remaining crossed. Still, he refuses to look at Grimmjow in his own stubbornness (and, perhaps, because he felt too flustered). Unfortunately, Grimmjow knows these stubborn moods too well, but the advantage to that is he knows what soothes them.

Grimmjow presses a kiss against the cheek Ichigo has turned to him, the faint touch of lips against his cheek already leaves the sharp edges of Ichigo’s composure melting. His heart flutters ever so slightly, and he inhales deeply to compensate for the way in which his chest seems to swell. Gradually, the tightness that he held his arms with eases, his shoulders fall from the tense posture he had, and he slowly turns his head. Ichigo does not fully face the arrancar, but he was no longer turned as far away from Grimmjow as he could manage.

“Are ya’ gonna finish yer’ movie or what?” Grimmjow asks, breaking the silence that Ichigo had stubbornly pushed between them. Ichigo sighs in response, his gaze flickering down before he picks the remote up from the couch arm he’d left it on. “Yeah…” he finally answers. The last remnants annoyance that had coiled in his posture slips away and he leans against Grimmjow’s shoulder. The arrancar leaves his hand resting against Ichigo’s opposite hip and adjusts to a more comfortable position, though he doesn’t move too far from the body resting against him.

As Ichigo resumes watching the movie, Grimmjow’s gaze falls to him for a moment and he notices (rather painfully) the melancholy that has seemed to settle across his features. The sight pulls at something in his core, makes his heartstrings strum a little tighter, but he is still not well versed in these… these sorts of moments. They are a mystery to him as much as the lovelorn tales that seem to quietly riddle Ichigo’s heart. He does not move cautiously by any means, but his heart does feel wary as he rests his cheek on top of the soul reaper’s head. Ichigo presses closer to him almost immediately and he pulls his legs up onto the coach as he does so.

After a few minutes, Ichigo drags his arm to lay over Grimmjow’s stomach, “It gets kinda sad from here on out,” he says as if to justify his actions. Grimmjow only hums in response, though Ichigo’s words do prompt him to rest his other hand on top of the arm laying on his stomach, his fingers idly curling around the other’s elbow.

“Thought you hadn’t seen this before,” Grimmjow comments idly, though he does find some amusement in the fact that his suspicion about an hour before was indeed correct. Ichigo doesn’t answer him, at least not properly anyway; all he receives in response is a weak grunt as Ichigo curls further around him. He makes no move to push the boy away, however, considering he doesn't necessarily want to see the boy get emotional again (the very thought of it makes him panic, truthfully, he has no idea what to even _do_ with someone when they're so emotionally vulnerable). As if a precaution to the inevitable, Grimmjow rests his chin on top of Ichigo's head, a habitual motion that he's learned calms the other. It seems to do the trick, if for the moment, as he relaxes further then presses himself a little closer to the arrancar, nudging his head further under Grimmjow's chin in the process. It's a tight embrace, but it's warm and.. well, indulgent really. Quiet moments away from the prying eye of the world and its twin moon, these moments are indeed an indulgence. Grimmjow doesn't think about how tender the remnants of his heart feel, rather, he lets himself quietly live in it (if for the moment). 

**Author's Note:**

> the movie in this fic is "heavenly forest." as i said earlier i picked this movie at random as i wanted to write the fic along with it, partially to get myself to write more 'plot oriented' stuff (im much too poetic for my own good). the movie is actually incredibly sad, i had no clue going in. i stopped my writing and watched the end to decide how to end the fic and ended up absolutely bawling my eyes out like a baby. anyway, it is a good movie still, with an artful story. i really wanted to write something sweet and cute, but had to work around it given the movies actually sad.
> 
> i really do think ichigos a romantic at heart so i think hed like stuff like that, and romantic comedies and such. a lot of this is also based off the headcanon that i don't think grimmjow knows a lot about human cultures/humans as a whole (though i do want to say, looking back, it looks like i implied grimmjow doesnt know what gifts are, but i just wanted it to seem like he was thinking of ichigo). anyway, i hope you all liked it! thanks if you read the fic and all my comments!


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